Bound
by planet p
Summary: AU; rather than the people coming to the Destiny, the Destiny comes to the people, on Earth. When things go wrong, everybody is left wondering where their destinies are bound.
1. Chapter 1

**When first hearing about _Stargate: Universe_, this is kinda how I imagined it might go. (Because it's nothing like how it, in fact, does go, it's AU.)**

* * *

For so long, Chloe hadn't been well enough, even, to leave the confines of her hospital room. It came as both relief, and excruciating pain, that she should be well enough to venture from her hospital room to visit her best friend, Kitty Langrin, on the evening of the day before they departed the planet.

In the beginning, Alan Armstrong had been vehemently against the proposition, but, as time wore on, and Chloe's condition grew graver, he finally allowed himself to be talked around by his wife, Beth.

There was going to be no medical breakthrough, no stunning epiphany that could save Chloe in time. At least, not on Earth.

In truth, he had not agreed to allowing Chloe passage aboard the _Destiny_ because he saw it as a possible conduit to her recovery, as he knew his wife, Beth, did, but because he'd wanted her to experience something truly greater before she passed on to the next world, as much as he hoped, day by day, that that day would never come, at least, not before his own death day.

Chloe was smiling, and full of an exuberance neither Beth nor he had seen in her for a long time, so much so that when she asked to be able to take the staircase to Kitty's room alone, he could not help but grant her her wish.

As he watched her navigate the steps, Beth standing beside him, but not clutching his hand, he prayed that she'd make it, that her sudden recovery of energy really was a sign of better things to come.

* * *

As she struggled up one step, and then the other, Chloe kept herself going by thinking of the surprise Kitty would have when, hearing a knock upon her bedroom door, she slipped off her bed and walked to the door to investigate.

Chloe fully expected her to pass out in shock. Well, actually, she expected nothing so dramatic, but she did hope for a smile, or even a small, "Am I dreaming?"

Kitty and she had been best friends since they'd met in primary school at the age of six, through the onset of Chloe's illness at the age of seven, right through to this day, eight years later.

Her heart pounded as she reached the landing, and she made the decision not to look back to see if her parents had waited to watch her progress to the first floor; she was having trouble remembering which door was the door to Kitty's bedroom, and, as humorous as that, at first, sounded, it was really starting to strike a nerve.

She blundered along the hallway, telling herself that it wasn't long now before she was due a break, and a nice, comfy seat in Kitty's room, and recalling the thousands of e-mails and IMs she'd shared with her best friend over the years.

Kitty's online identity was Kitty Grins, whilst hers was Miss California Armstrong. Personally, she favoured Kitty's pseudonym over her own, but she'd never actually had to admit so.

Reaching the door she sincerely hoped was still Kitty's, she gave the door three knocks, and tried not to pull a face at the pain the action had caused in her hand and fingers, and which was now attempting to invade her right arm.

* * *

The fancy lunch was really too much for Chloe, made all the more so by the dress her mother had picked out for her, as though she was a beautiful princess from a Disney cartoon, except, she wasn't a princess at all, she was dying, and the dress made her want to throw up.

Still, she'd worn it; still, she'd tried her best to eat everything on her plate. Anything was better than remembering last night, right?

She really didn't want to remember the night before, taking the stairs, how arduous it had been, and then, at last, seeing Kitty framed in the doorway to her bedroom, utter shock marring her face; the sting of swear words that had come off for her mother's not having given her some clue, some forewarning; for not having been able to help her up the staircase, or the red paper cranes that filled Kitty's bedroom – exactly one thousand of them – or the smile that had wiped from Kitty's face right before she'd kissed her – on the mouth.

Chloe's stomach turned over a couple of somersaults at the sight of dessert, but she decided that she would eat it, even if it made her ill.

She absolutely did not want to think about Kitty; she'd rather have been ill, and throwing her guts up, actually.

It simply wasn't fair that Kitty could be in love with her!

It wasn't fair, at all.

She _loved_ Kitty, but she wasn't _in love_ with her – and just because of that, because of _one_ stupid word, she was afraid she'd lost her best friend forever.

* * *

If anyone was surprised to see a fourteen-year-old sitting at the table with all of the other adults, nothing was made of it; and if anyone was further surprised to learn that she would be accompanying them aboard the ship, the _Destiny_, then nothing was said of it, either.

A young man by the name of Eli, who she strongly suspected had been talked into it, asked her if she was excited to be travelling in a spaceship, he'd never been before himself, and she replied what was expected of her: Certainly, yes. She didn't think that there were words in the English language that could accurately contain the degree and severity of her excitement, in fact.

To his credit, Eli quickly hid his look of flabbergast, and struck up a conversation about computer games, wanting to know if she'd ever played any.

"Well, I've played Hearts," she replied sensibly. "Does that count?"

A muscle in Eli's cheek faltered, shattering the illusion of the geniality of his smile.

She pretended not to notice, her own smile as friendly a smile as she could conceivably muster.

* * *

_I don't own _SGU_._


	2. Chapter 2

The ship was Ancient; nobody could say with definitiveness how it had strayed into their path, just that it had. Dr. Nicholas Rush was under the impression that it actually wasn't that great of a concern, in fact.

What was a concern, however, was the _child_ who would be accompanying them on their journey. Scratch that, the _seriously ill_ child!

Really, it wasn't as though he was the only one questioning the decision, either; at least, mentally, or morally. For instance, it wasn't as though he _hadn't_ overheard Camile Wray discussing the matter with Col. Everett Young.

It was ridiculous, no matter if the man was to be their leader aboard the mission, or not. On the note of which, she was completely at a loss as to how the SGC had even come up with him as receiving _that_ posting; they can't have picked a more useless, senseless candidate if they'd drawn a name out of a hat.

At this point, her eyes had darkened.

They hadn't had they? she'd asked.

It was to be something of the order of, ostensibly, for his brilliant negotiating skills, Young suggested, to which Camile snorted.

She could, in fact, imagine that _entirely_!

At the precise moment, following which, Rush was startled by a low voice from behind him.

"You're eavesdropping on them," Eli said. Then, completely smashing up his moral high ground into a thousand tiny pieces, "What are they saying?"

"It sounds to me as though they're beginning to question their confidence in the SGC's ability for rational decision making," he revealed, with a smile.

"And what do you think?" Eli asked, to his surprise. Without waiting for a response, he widened his eyes, and added, "It's a bit _off_ inviting a kid to join in, you know."

"I don't disagree," Rush agreed.

"Dude," Eli whispered, "not to mention, it's more than freaky!" He frowned, slowly, before plunging on, "Hey! Do you think Tara's into me?"

"Tara?" Rush asked. He was familiar with neither the name, nor, to his best knowledge, the face behind the name.

"The first aid officer," Eli added.

"I'm a scientist, not a relationship therapist," he replied.

Eli's face fell; he was probably regretting his decision to share, Rush thought fairly.

* * *

Coming around to the time to board the _Destiny_, Chloe was feeling too ill to feel much of anything else. She must have been looking it, too, because not a moment after stepping onto the ship, a young woman approached her with Dr. Simms, who she'd earlier been introduced to, wanting to know how she was.

She wasn't inclined to lie; not even for the sake of catching their departure.

She was taken to the Infirmary, and promptly threw up, after which she fell asleep.

Right before her eyes closed, she hoped her father wouldn't worry too much. It was a thing he did.

* * *

Rush had retired to one of the labs, which was where Eli found him.

"Tara's spitting chips," he immediately informed him, launching into speech. "Apparently, it's the kid. She's sick, or something. Dude, I mean, how crappy would it be if she _died_?"

"People die, Eli," Rush told him, simply.

Eli froze, even his face froze. "Wow," he said blankly, after a moment, "that was amazingly compassionate."

"The requirement of compassion was not indicated in my job description," Rush merely told him.

Eli shook his head. What sort of a person said something like that in real life!

Well, if he'd not wanted to know, Rush thought, then he'd have been best served not asking. It wasn't hard figuring onto Eli's thoughts; he was actually very easy to read.

"Like, that's the type of stuff a normal person doesn't say," Eli imparted, finally.

"Honesty is honesty, Eli," Rush explained. "If you'd rather, it would be of small inconvenience of me to dream up some plausible untruth, just that it'd, of course-"

Eli threw up his hands. "Armstrong and Young are bad enough; don't you start, too. God, oh please!"

He smiled, "As you wish."

"I do wish," Eli breathed. "_Very_ strongly!"

"What was your response to Tara?" Rush asked, a few moments later, as he was working on something at one of the consoles.

Eli frowned. "Nothing," he replied. "I came straight here to tell you."

Rush smiled. "Of course you did, Eli."

Eli's face worked with confusion. "What, do you think I should have said something?" he asked, eventually.

"It certainly it would have been a point in your court, I think," Rush told him.

Eli's eyes widened with dismay at the same moment his face fell in horror. It wasn't a very fetching sight. "Crap, now she's going to think I'm some sort of jerk, isn't she?"

"Do you remember me telling you that I wasn't a relationship therapist?" Rush asked.

Eli nodded. He remembered that, sure.

"Well, nothing has changed."

* * *

The crummy part, Chloe discovered, of sleeping right through the departure from Earth was also the part where she slept right through the part where the ship had gone berserk and they were now, officially, _lost in space._

_Crisps_, she thought, _what's with that? How can the ship go AWOL; it's just a ship, right?_

Still, it was like wondering how her body could have gone AWOL; it was her body, right? But it wasn't listening to her; it never did; so it wasn't such a surprise to her, at all.

She was actually kinda glad she'd slept through all of the annoying, distorted PA announcements for calm and order, or whatever. For a moment, she wondered if, on a spaceship, it was still called a PA.

Dr. Simms came in to check on her; she threw up all over the bed.

_Fantastic!_

She realised, shortly, that her body wasn't really digging his cologne. Now how was she going to tell him _that_?

She threw up again.

Her dad was going to be so disappointed, she thought, through the pain.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Lisa Park and Dr. Dale Volker turned away from the console they'd been examining when Rush walked in, looking justifiably unhappy. "Of course, you immediately assume it was one of us," Volker spoke up, fending off the attack he felt was imminent. "It might as well have been Palmer, or even yourself, for all we know!"

Dr. Andrea Palmer appeared in the doorway, as though invocated at the mention of her name.

"On the topic of which, where we you when it happened?" Volker demanded, his attention held solely on Rush.

"He was running system diagnostics, the same as I was," Palmer interrupted. "Would the lot of you quit this incessant playing the blame game; I'm going to be nauseous if it goes on for much longer. It's childish in the extreme; you must see that!"

Park offered her a glare; Palmer offered her a _Come on!_ in response.

"Are you qualified to read A-"

Andrea's hand appeared on Rush's arm. "You're not buying into this, Dr. Rush," she told him firmly. "It's happened, now let's see what we can do to remedy it!"

Rush turned a glare on her.

"I'm flattered," she replied, "but I believe that first honours go to Dr. Park." She took a breath. "In answer to your question: No, we, as well as I, do not read Ancient; that speciality belongs to yourself and Dr. Jackson." She let out a sigh. "Are you going to argue, or are you done?"

"Look at her, talking to us as though we were children!" Park piped up.

Palmer held up a hand. "I believe I was talking to Dr. Rush," she said, without so much as a glance in the direction of the other woman.

Park scoffed.

Rush turned and walked out without replying.

"We're done," Palmer deduced. "As you were, doctors." She walked out after Rush.

"Where does she get off?" Palmer caught Park's angered hiss as she departed.

"Some people are just invidious," Volker offered up.

* * *

"Dr. Rush!" Palmer called, hurrying to catch him up.

"I am not talking to you, Palmer!" Rush told her bluntly.

"If you'd care to contemplate it, you'd see that I wasn't trying to undermine you; I was trying to prevent the lot of you from declaring warfare on each other. We've already got the stranded part pretty well down, we don't need infighting to cap it off!"

Rush crossed his arms, still not looking at her. "For someone who wasn't trying, you did a damn good job of it," he commented spitefully.

Palmer sighed heavily. "You bet I did, doctor," she replied, falsely humorous.

Rush stopped dead. A long moment later, he turned to face her.

She made a face. "What are we doing?" she asked.

"We're going back," he decided.

She sighed, gladdened.

They began the walk back to the lab.

* * *

"What? _Where_ are we?" Eli spluttered, scrunching up his eyes to see the screen, which was clearly displayed right in front of him.

Rush began the explanation again, visual aids included.

"Holy crap!" Eli declared. "Sorry," he added, frowning at a _You idiot_ look from Park. "That's a long way, isn't it?" he commented, a moment later, when no one was saying anything.

"A fairly long way, yes!" Volker agreed, with a grin. "I mean, isn't that _your_ assessment, Dr. Rush?"

Palmer reached up a hand for her temple. For goodness sakes!

"It is a long way; nobody is arguing that fact, Eli," Rush said, ignoring Volker.

"Are we going to be able to get home?" Eli asked, feeling it best to ignore Volker, too.

"As of now, we are not sure," Rush explained.

Eli nodded, then glanced at Palmer. "Is she going to faint?"

Rush looked, too. "Dr. Palmer?"

"Isn't that just a surprising turn?" Park snapped.

Eli's eyes widened and he leapt backward as Palmer collapsed and fell to the floor. "Oh, cripes! Ah, I'll get Tara."

He raced off.

* * *

In the Infirmary, Park turned to Volker with a sneer. Had she, or had she not, heard rightly? Palmer suffered from claustrophobia when she was stressed! And, knowing that, she'd declared herself fit to travel, and _work_, on a spaceship!

Volker nodded to the door, across the room. Perhaps it would be best if they left.

He took the lead, and Park followed him out.

At the door, she suggested them go for a coffee.

He didn't disagree.

* * *

"I'm sorry, I haven't fainted since I was twelve," Palmer apologised to Rush, Dr. Simms, and Tara.

Tara looked sympathetic: these things happened.

Dr. Simms launched into a babble about medications; Palmer knew what each one of them was, and what they did, and were typically used for.

"Why?" Rush asked, over Dr. Simms's lecture.

"My twin brother died when I was six; it was a hit-and-run," Palmer told him. "I'm not bitter about it, anymore; I can't believe I actually passed out. I feel rather stupid."

Tara shook her head. "You're not stupid," she told her.

Palmer returned her attention to Dr. Simms's, who was explaining that she'd need to see the resident psychiatrist, Dr. Jill Landover, before any prescriptions were finalised.

Rush decided that was his queue to leave, too.

* * *

"Excuse me?" a voice piped up as he was passing one of the rooms that stemmed off from the Infirmary.

Rush turned to see the blonde-haired teenager from their last lunch on Earth standing in the doorway, holding onto it as though for support, her hands white. He tried to remember that name that had been given as attached to her, but it escaped him.

"Has something happened?" the girl asked.

"No," he replied simply; nothing that should concern the girl, in any case.

"I'm Chloe," she said, and reached out one of her pale hands, wavering slightly on the spot.

He had the feeling she should have still been in bed, and shook his head.

Chloe returned her hand to the doorframe. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?" she asked.

He frowned.

She sighed. "It's okay," she said, "I understand if you don't feel like it. I'm probably going to die, anyway, right? There's no sense in making friends when we'd lose each other when I died."

"Dr. Rush," he offered, still with that frown.

Chloe grinned. Was he going to tell her off, now, for being pessimistic? "That's what you want me to call you?" She shrugged, fighting back a wince. "That's cool with me; I mean, if it's what people usually call you, why not?" She made her eyes bigger. "People usually call me Chloe, but my last name's Armstrong, and, yeah, it's also my dad's name, and, yeah again, he's that guy who does all the talking."

She blinked. "I talk a lot, don't I? I reckon I'm going to go back to bed now, I'm kinda tired. It was awesome talking; I guess I'll see you the next time you're in." She frowned. "Am I babbling? I'm babbling. I bet you have all sorts of important work; I wouldn't want to keep you. I expect your friend will be right as rain in no time. You can go now; I mean, I'm not going to leap over there and hold onto your arm, or anything."

Rush nodded shortly, and walked away.

He really wished they hadn't let the kid come, despite the fact that they had, and, more than that, he wished he hadn't stopped; he wished he'd just kept walking. It was bad enough that he'd had to hear Palmer's news, without the kid telling him that, really, she got that she was going to die, to top it off nicely.

In the corridor, he sighed.

He'd probably go and find Eli now and check up on the latest gossip; it was bound to be brighter than anything he'd just heard.


	4. Chapter 4

Alan Armstrong wanted Chloe to see Dr. Landover, the 'head doctor;' Chloe, herself, wasn't so enthusiastic, but she'd promised her mother, back on Earth, and it'd be awful to break a promise just because her mom wasn't around to know that she had.

On their first session, Dr. Landover asked Chloe to call her Jill; Chloe didn't know that she wanted to get that friendly when she might die in a month, two months, a year.

She didn't tell Dr. Landover this; instead she told her that she was really just used to calling professionals by their working titles, rather than personal, or given, names. Dr. Landover seemed to accept that.

If she was well enough, Dr. Landover told her encouragingly, she could start a journal, if she liked.

Chloe suggested that rather than making copious notes on her thoughts or feelings that she compile a Visual Diary instead, a compendium of drawings, rather.

Dr. Landover went with it, no problem. If she was oriented more to the visual side, and that was what worked for her, sure, hammer it for all it was worth.

Chloe frowned, and swiftly changed the topic to art supplies.

* * *

Over the intervening weeks, Park's obsessive hatred of Palmer grew by leaps and bounds; Eli discovered that Lt. Matthew 'Matt' Scott was with Lt. Vanessa James, secretly, though, and that, in her spare time, Tara liked reading romance novels; especially the soppy ones.

Col. Young was repining over the supplies, especially the 'edibles;' which meant that Armstrong was, and the rest of them were left wondering whose turn it was next to get Hell brought down on them in the form of a verbal reverb.

Chloe drew vast, cool oceanscapes in her Visual Diary and hoped that her thinking of calm, serene things would somehow permeate the air, or the background energies, and soothe everyone a little, but it didn't appear to be working; she was only one person.

She could never get the depths beneath the waves quite right, or even the waves themselves, and it had started to annoy her, though she knew she, of all people, shouldn't be the one allowing herself to get carried away with the wave of mass sentiment – or hysteria, as she thought of it – sweeping the _Destiny_.

She spent a lot of time putting on her jumper, only to, ten minutes later, take it off again after discovering that she'd grown, suddenly, over hot.

She wondered how long she had; it didn't seem, to her, like it could be very long.

She hoped her dad wouldn't take it too hard. He still had to get them all home, after all.

* * *

She was sleeping when Rush came in, and he had to shake her a little by the arm to wake her; she thought it might be her father, at first, through fiercely blinking eyes, but it didn't feel right to be her dad, and whoever it was, it wasn't Dr. Simms because she wasn't throwing up on them, and she couldn't smell Dr. Simms's cologne, either.

"Who is it?" she finally asked; not because she was afraid but because she merely wished to know.

It wasn't Tara, because it was a man. She didn't know how she knew, exactly, she just knew.

"Dr. Rush," her visitor answered, in a lowered voice.

She rubbed the back of her neck, leaving her eyes closed for a moment: they hurt. "And what is it that brings you here, doctor?" she asked, forcibly taking her hand from the back of her neck before she scratched a hole in it.

"I don't think you're getting better, and I think your thinking runs along remarkably similar lines, on this matter; in fact, I think you _know_ that you're not getting better," he told her.

"I see," she answered, opening her eyes painfully. "Yes, you're right. And it's most deductive of you, might I add. You didn't read my Chart, did you?"

An irritated frown crossed his face, quickly becoming disquiet.

"That isn't your kettle of broth, I understand…" She shook her head, pausing, and scrunched her eyes closed a little, little bit. "Cup of…"

"Cup of tea," Rush filled in.

She nodded, and winced at the pain. Yes, it figured that her head should hurt on the nod and not the shake. "Thank you. Cup of tea, my apologies. You've come to wish me well, then?"

He opened his hand and held out something small and metal.

She could tell it was metal because of the way the light struck upon it, sending painful shafts into her eyes and straight to her brain, she imagined. "What is it?" she asked. It was, of course, a ring.

"Part of a device, I believe."

"Does this device have cable capabilities?"

He frowned, not the angered frown of before, more of a bewildered frown, she thought.

"Cable television, pay TV…"

"I shouldn't think so."

She narrowed her eyes again, in an attempt to stem the flow of pain, and the feeling of needing to vomit pushing its way up through her body. "So what does it do, in that case? What do you _believe_ it does, should I say?" She coughed. Damn! She really needed to puke right now!

"I believe it can help you to get a bit better," he said.

She didn't even attempt an eye roll, at this point. "Am I going to have to swallow it, or what?" she asked dryly.

"It's a ring, I should think its application would be _obvious_, Chloe."

She was glad he'd used her first name instead of any pretence at the usual Miss Armstrong junk she got from most adults she'd recently met; which didn't mean she'd stopped feeling as though, if he got a step nearer, she was going to be puking her intestinal contents up all over him, if a person _could_ puke up their intestinal contents, that was.

She wasn't so sure.

"Do I put it on my finger?" she queried, taking what her dad called an 'educated' guess.

"I imagine that is its purpose, yes," Rush replied.

"Great, and then what?"

He held up his left hand.

"Your wedding ring, awesome!"

He sighed heavily.

As though to say, she was really missing the point, she thought.

"Not my wedding ring," he told her, "it merely shares similarities in appearance with my wedding ring."

Chloe made talking marks with her fingers. "Right, so they 'go' together! Your wife's going to be pissed-"

"My wife is dead," he interrupted to update her, with stunning indifference.

Chloe made big eyes. "Well, I'd still be pissed," she muttered.

"Why would you?" he asked, catching her words perfectly.

She scratched the back of her neck, then tucked her hand underneath one of her legs. "Why do you still wear the ring?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," he told her.

"Take an educated stab in the dark," she quipped, then whined. "Don't make me start an argument I won't be able to finish," she remarked, "just tell me what the ridiculous thing does, or is _supposed_ to do!"

"The literal Ancient translation was…" he tossed his head, "hmm…"

"Iffy," she offered up.

He gave a brief nod.

"What did you glean?"

He nodded to his closed hand, holding the first ring he'd showed her. "This ring is for the 'recipient,'" he glanced at his left hand, "and this one for the 'role model.'"

Chloe wiggled about a bit; _No, no scratching_, she admonished mentally. "It sounds gross, just so you know. Besides, I don't think psychic organ donation can do much for me," she added. Then, because the humour obviously wasn't coming through for him, "Hit me with the pseudonym! What are you calling it?"

He blinked; what it was being called was hardly the point.

"We're not calling it the Ring. I am not a _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy fangirl!" she grumbled. "Legolas is dangerous, but hardly mysterious! Plus, he's a frigging elf!" She hiccuped: swearword. Crisps, crumbs, and cripes – that had hurt!

She patted her chest with the flat of her palm.

"I thought we'd call it the RM/R device," Rush said, finally.

"Ruinous Machines Rock?"

He frowned.

"Role model, recipient," she mumbled. "I'm not a baby, I get most things, just not the techno babble; the psycho babble I can nod along to convincingly, I think, where needed." She tucked her hand back under her leg. "How does it work? It won't make you sick like me, will it?"

"From what I've read, no," he answered.

"From what you've been _able_ to read, don't you mean?" she corrected. "How much, exactly, have you read, and how much of what you've read did you understand? Confess now, or I might have to get Spock in to perform a Vulcan mind meld!"

"I've read enough to _understand_ the device's purpose and function, if that is what you are referring to," he replied.

"But Spock is funny, and cute," Chloe complained. "Yes, 'that' is what I refer to," she confirmed. "I take it this is to be a covert operation, AKA a secret?"

"I did not think that either your father or your attending physician would approve," he agreed.

She smiled a little; it was the best she could do. "Secrets are cool, in a _My Little Pony_ way. So now you're waiting for the part where I tell you to bugger off, I suppose?"

"I am waiting for your opinion," he merely answered.

"Am I allowed to say 'yes'? Would it be terribly selfish of me? You're sure that if we do this you'll not be suffering any side effects, complications which can be implicated, anything?"

"I'm fairly sure."

"'Fairly' isn't a guarantee of assurance in my books," she told him.

"It is my choice," he said.

She blinked; it would be an absolute mess to nod. "It is." She sighed, slightly. "What do we do now?"

He offered her the ring again.

She took her hand out from under her leg and held it out in front of her; it was shaking fairly badly; she felt too ill to be embarrassed; she wanted to slap him, stupid scientist man; just a man underneath scientist façade. "The show's all yours; I think I might throw up."

He made a face which made her want to laugh. Pity, she couldn't.

"Mucho speedo, Gonzalez," she joked. She watched him take hold of her hand, and her hand steady, then. "My best friend, Kitty, gave me a friendship ring, once. It was when we were about ten, I think. I wore it for three hours, but I wasn't allowed to really wear it in the hospital. I guess it's in my jewellery box at home."

The ring was cold; she didn't feel any different. Well, maybe she felt a bit worse, and still a whole heck like throwing up.

"It must have been bad for you when your wife died," she said. "I apologise if I was offensive earlier. I don't know anything about the love between two adults; I'm just a kid, really." She closed her eyes, for a moment; couldn't roll them. "I like to run my mouth, even _when_ I feel like puking! Next time, if it gets too much, just tell me to stop." She nodded, ever so slightly. "I'd appreciate that."

He let go of her hand; it dropped back to the bed and landed in her lap.

"It's late," she said. "You should really look to be getting some rest, and so should I. In light of which, I think I'll make this 'goodnight.'"

"Goodnight," he replied, and she watched him walk out of the room.

Though he couldn't know it, Kitty had never given her a ring; certainly, her mom wouldn't have dished out for something that was either far too expensive for something that would never be worn, or far too trashy for something that would, conceivably, be worn for an hour, maybe two, and then filed away into the locker of her early childhood, preadolescent memories; to be dredged up at a later date, and thought upon as offensive, or crude.

She spent a few minutes admiring her first ring, before settling back into bed, and closing her eyes.

* * *

**By the way, is Camile the same woman from _Stargate: Atlantis_; the one who wanted Richard's job, but didn't get it in the end?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Way, way out-of-character!**

* * *

She was scared; suddenly scared she was going to die. She was woken in the middle of the night, or the middle of the morning, and she was so, _so_ scared. There weren't even words for how scared she was; not human words. Her heart knew the words, her blood knew the words, her synapses, too; they sang them, but she couldn't hear them, she couldn't _really_ hear them, it was just impressions, feelings, she's hearing them, but not understanding them.

_I don't want to die_, she whimpered in her mind.

She couldn't even cry; her tears would sing, then, running down her cheeks, free!

_Come back!_ she would cry after them, clutching, but she'd only be clutching at air, and there were so many holes; the air was full of holes.

She wondered what filled the holes, what filled those holes. She didn't know, so she wondered. Was it pain? she wonders; was it souls; lost and torn and crying, no longer able to scream? Singing; did they sing?

She couldn't move; she was so still. The pain was eating her alive, and she couldn't _move_.

If she moved, it would get worse, but she _couldn't_ move.

The pain sung, it sung about pain, only more pain, and then, something happened. Into the singing, stinging racket slid something else, spinning and weaving and driving the pain out. It was a song, she realised; it was beautiful.

She cried then, warmth rushing over her cheeks, over her chin and her neck, but she was sleeping then, by then she was sleeping.

She dreamed of the song. It played over and over in her dreams, a cool stone in her palm, and every time she turned it over, it changed, but it was always the same; it kept the pain away.

The pain couldn't touch her when that song was playing; she wished it would play forever, and maybe it would.

* * *

She woke at eight and climbed out of bed; the floor felt cold, it made her toes cold. She was hungry; thirsty, a bit, too.

She walked out of the Infirmary, to the Mess. No one else was really there. She found a seat at one of the tables and sat down.

She hummed the Crystals' _I Wonder_, imagining the Mess full of people, people she'd met during her last lunch on Earth, people she'd met in the hospital, or on the street; she even imagined Kitty.

Kitty was smiling.

She closed her eyes and rested her face on her arms, which she'd put on the top of the table.

She was just going to wait until it was time for breakfast.

* * *

"Chloe?"

She blinked open her eyes and lifted her head from her arms; they felt kinda tingly. She needed to move them, she supposed. She turned her head and look behind her. "Dr. Rush," she said.

He was looking at her kinda funny, she noticed.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

"Waiting for breakfast," she answered, widening her eyes. She blinked, he was still looking at her like that.

"It's evening, Chloe," he said, finally.

She made a face. "Was I asleep that long? Why didn't someone wake me?"

"You've been sleeping for a few days," Rush told her quietly. He moved closer to the table; she wondered if he was scared of her.

She wasn't contagious, was she? She hadn't been before.

She shook her head. "I only came for breakfast," she said, "but it was too early, so I decided to wait." She squinted. "It was about eight, I think, when I woke up."

"Eight P.M.?" he asked.

She frowned. "I _thought_ it was morning. What time is it now?"

"Half past ten," he replied. "In… it's evening," he added, as an afterthought.

"Papier-mâché! It's difficult to judge time in a space ship." She blinked. "I'm still hungry. That kinda sucks. I guess dinner's over, huh?"

He nodded.

"Do they do supper?"

"I'm afraid not, Chloe. Would you like a biscuit or some dried fruit? I think they have that… powdered soup… with the hot water."

"Do they have salami?" She pulled a face. "But not the one that's not spicy; it tastes icky!"

"We could take a look," Rush suggested.

She pushed the chair back and leapt to her feet. "I'm starving! What kind of fruit do they dry? Apples?"

"Your father's worried; Dr. Simms and Tara, as well."

She frowned and moaned. "Can I eat something first, before I go back."

"Would you like to talk to your father?" he asked, handing her a small radio.

She dropped her shoulders and reached out a hand for the radio. "'Kay." She looked at the radio. "Dad?"

She talked to her dad for a while, he said he wasn't sure she should eat too much, maybe she should just have a soup; she had been sleeping for a week.

She made her eyes big and stared at Rush. "A _whole_ week!" she mouthed.

He frowned, and nodded.

"Crisps!" she muttered. "Okay, dad," she agreed, "I'll just have soup, and a little bit of crinkly fruit. Can I have pepper?" She frowned. "Not with the fruit! With the soup, dad. I like spicy food; I know, dad, mom doesn't like me having it. It's supposed to be good for you. I mean, that's what I read. In the hospital." She sniffed. "Can I eat now, dad? I'm hungry. Cool; I'll be super fast. Oh, 'kay; then I'll try not to eat too fast. I'll see you later! Bye! Oh."

She turned and looked at Rush. "Dr. Rush. He's tall. Uh-ha! Well, taller than me. He's a scientist, I think. He looks worried." She grinned. "Dang! He talks with this _accent_! You remember, right? You do now? Cool." She laughed. "Not if I catch you first!"

She scrunched up her nose. "Dad forgot who you were," she told Rush. "Isn't that silly! Aren't you, like, the top scientific advisor? Have you seen _Doctor Who_? It's from the UK. The Doctor's this alien, and he's the humans' scientific advisor, but, I mean, it's so like the Stargate Program! He's the advisor to this secret military unit thing who take care of all the alien stuff! But only in the United Kingdom, I think." She laughed. "Uck, isn't that so _the Little Mermaid_! The Kingdom… Under the Sea!" She waved a hand about. "That's okay, Chloe's being freaky again. Ignore Freaky Chloe; Hungry Chloe wants to eat, she's due back in the Infirmary soon." She put her hand over her mouth; she was shutting up now, see.

* * *

"The fruit's not very fruity, as far as fruit goes," she commented. "Have you ever had mango? I mean, there's no possible reason for you not to have had, but I like mango, it's mangoey. Do you like mango, or do you _hate_ it?"

Rush frowned.

"You don't really care," Chloe guessed. "When I was little, my mom used to put it in salads, as in, with _lettuce_! Pretty weird, huh? Still, it got me to eat the salad, so I guess it was a good idea. My dad always used to get this look like he was pretending to like it, except I knew he didn't, really, and I'd laugh and laugh. It could get pretty disgusting. Once, I knocked over the dressing. That was _gross_! Plus, mom kinda told me off later. Apparently, people aren't supposed to wave their arms about like they're penguins, at least, not when they're sitting at the dinner table, eating dinner. I don't even know where my mom got that thing about penguins from! I mean, who's even seen a penguin in real life? Not me!"

"You've never been to the zoo?" Rush asked.

She shook her head. "My school went once, before I got sick sick, but I wasn't allowed to go. I had the flu. Have you seen a real penguin?"

He nodded.

"Do they wave their arms about heaps?"

"I'm not sure," he told her. "I wasn't that fascinated by them."

"Were there _bears_?" Chloe asked excitedly.

"I'm not sure."

She looked at her soup, then tested its hotness with her finger. "Finally," she moaned. "Do you ever wonder what kind of animals they have in space?" she asked, sticking her finger in her mouth to get the soup off it.

"Not overly."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Really?" she cried. "You don't wonder if 'walking carpets' are real?"

"If _what_ are real, excuse me?"

"_Star Wars_, you know? Wookies?"

"I have heard of the franchise," he said.

"But you haven't watched it?" she guessed.

"No."

She nodded, and took a large sip of her soup. After a moment, she said, "I had loads of time to watch stuff in the hospital, I mean, when I was awake. This soup needs spicing."

He nodded.

"You're thinking that I should shut it and eat, aren't you?" she asked.

He nodded again.

She laughed. "'Kay, from now on I will." She took another sip of her soup. Who couldn't have seen at least one of the _Star Wars_ movies once? she wondered. It had practically been out forever!

* * *

Her dad hugged her when she got back to the Infirmary, chewing on a bit of dried apple. But not too hard; he never hugged her really hard in case he accidentally killed her. At least, that was how she thought of it.

She offered him a piece of dried fruit; he didn't want one. Dr. Simms and Tara didn't, either.

She answered Dr. Simms's questions for a while, then Tara walked her back to her 'room.'

She lay back down in her bed and closed her eyes. Tara wished her a goodnight; she wished her one back.

She wondered if being hungry meant she was getting better. She supposed Rush felt bad for her because she was sick and all; he never ever told her to zip it, even when she needed it sometimes.

* * *

In the morning, he dad made her talk extra long with Dr. Landover. She talked a lot about how she missed Kitty; she _did_. She missed her mom, too. She was happy she wasn't still in the hospital, though.

She showed Dr. Landover her ocean drawings. She said the ocean calmed her, focused her thoughts. She didn't tell Dr. Landover the bit about trying to project calming thoughts to the others; she didn't want Dr. Landover to think she was mad or anything.

Dr. Landover asked her if she'd liked to draw something else, something brighter, perhaps. Flowers, maybe.

She said that she would (she didn't really.) She'd always gotten loads of flowers in hospital; they were kind of like the messengers of illness, to her. They were pretty, but they meant something kinda horrible (kinda like people thought of angels, she supposed.)

She sat in her bed, trying to draw a yellow flower. When the yellow flower didn't work, she tried to draw a red one instead. (She imagined that the flowers worked for McDonald's; it made her grin.)

It was at about three P.M. when Rush came to see her; she supposed he had questions about the device. (She'd told her dad Kitty had given it to her the day before she'd left Earth, as, like, a friendship ring thing. Her dad seemed to buy it; he looked like he thought it was a really nice thought on Kitty's behalf. She knew he was glad she'd had Kitty all those years.)

"Pancakes!" she said suddenly, when Rush had nodded and come over to stand near her bed. "Is it waterproof?"

He nodded.

She made her eyes round. "Excellent!" She laughed; that'd probably been a bit Mr. Burns. "I'm feeling pretty okay, actually," she told him. "What about you?"

He nodded again.

She sighed and closed her Visual Diary. "So, do you have a friend like I have Kitty?"

"I had," he replied.

"I guess it was… your wife," she said, wondering what his wife's name had been. "That's really sad. I hope I didn't just sound like a major jerk."

"You didn't; I understand," he told her.

"I mean, I know how everyone _immediately_ always says, 'I'm sorry,' but that's kinda silly, not to mention pointless, and why should they be sorry? I mean, if they didn't even know the person? Yeah, I get that it's crappy like nothing else when someone dies, and you lose them, but it's not like _you're_ dead, but they always say, 'I'm sorry,' and you – well, _I_ – just think, _Whoa, slow down, bud!_ They don't even know how sad you are, and it's not like their being sorry is going to make you stop being sad, is it? You're still sad, and then maybe you get mad at them for saying something stupid like they're sorry when they don't even _know_ what it's _like_, and you're not really sorry, I mean, you're just sad, and people are supposed to get sad when crappy things happen, otherwise they'd just be all _Terminator_! But you're not sorry for being sad!" She frowned. "Are you?"

"Upon occasion," Rush replied.

She sighed. "I guess you can get kinda mad at being sad all the time, and then sometimes maybe you'd wonder if it was real sadness, or if you were making it up a bit, because you knew you'd be allowed to, but you know it's real sadness, too, but you can't help wondering, and that's kinda really ill, but you can't help it." She fiddled with the edge of one of the corners of her Visual Diary. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm not being kinda overdramatic, you know? And that'd be super cheap! And then I don't want to be sad, so I just kinda let myself think I'm faking it, then I get more mad, and then I get more _sad_. Is that more of a kid thing?"

"I couldn't honestly say," Rush told her.

She shrugged. "Kitty kissed me."

He frowned.

She widened her eyes. "I mean, full on girl kissed. On the mouth. I got scared. I think I upset her. But I _don't_ love her! I mean, I'm not _in_ love with her! And she said she's in love with me! Isn't that freaky? Not Kitty, or anything! But the whole freaking out thing? I reckon Kitty'd be right to kinda hate me. I was _mean_; I ran away. Still, she should have _told_ me." She touched her forehead with her hand. "My mom will _hate_ Kitty if she finds out! I don't hate her, I just wish she'd have told me how she felt so I could tell her I didn't feel like she did."

She sighed. "I can't talk to Dr. Landover about this kind of thing! I can't even talk to my dad! They'd look at me weird." She looked at him. "You won't look at me weird, will you?"

"No."

She nodded. "See. _You_ get it; but they wouldn't. I'm telling you, they'd freak. I already talk too much; my dad doesn't get where I've been hiding all these years, or where his well-mannered, quiet daughter's gone. He's not a bad dad – he's an _awesome_ dad – but he still sometimes gets this look like he'd rather I didn't blab my mouth off. Only kids blab their mouths off, and I'm four_teen_! I should have the presence of mind, or will, or whatever, to _contain_ myself! I should be neat and orderly, inside _and_ outside! I _hate_ expectations like that! They make me mad, and I hate being mad. It makes me feel crappy. I don't want to be mad or crappy, but I can't help it when stuff like that happens! It _gets_ to me!"

She sighed. "Do you ever think I'll stop being crappy?"

"You're not crappy, Chloe," he told her.

"But I'm just _blabbing_!"

"You obviously need it," he commented.

"But maybe I don't!" she cried. "How do you know?"

"I don't think it's really up to me to know, Chloe; I think that call is yours."

"But I _don't_ know!"

"Give it time, Chloe," he suggested.

"You mean, like, when I'm an adult! But that doesn't mean it'll happen, magically, just because I'm suddenly an _adult_, by _law_!"

"No, that isn't what it means," he agreed.

"Then what does 'time' mean?" Chloe burst. She didn't _get_ _it_!

"Only that, Chloe. Time. Experience, you might say, interchangeably."

"But what does that do?"

"It can do a lot, Chloe."

Chloe huffed and dropped her chin. "See, I'm even making _you_ mad! And you're, like, really super experienced by time and stuff, and you're a really good listener-"

He laughed briefly.

She widened her eyes. "What?"

"I wouldn't put it that way, exactly," he commented. "I wouldn't say I'm a 'really good listener.' Most people would disagree with you, on that point. I'm quite an awful listener, actually."

"But that's just about scientific opinions stuff!" Chloe exclaimed. "It's, like, different."

"The aspects of our lives overlap, Chloe; nothing is 'exclusive.'"

Chloe laughed. "In other words, I'm doomed!"

"Not at all, Chloe."

"I'm impatient!" Chloe complained. "I don't want to be _blabby_!"

"Then don't be."

Chloe stared at him. "What? Just shut up, you mean?"

He nodded.

"I'll die; I'll go mad!"

"Then, perhaps, you are just not ready for it yet. But, I might suggest one thing."

"What?" Chloe breathed, throwing up her hands.

"Think about your words before you voice them; think about what they'll sound like to you, and to the people around you."

Chloe sighed, depressing.

"You do seem to have regained your spirits, on the other hand," he encouraged.

Chloe moaned. "I'm hungry! Why am I always hungry?"

"You're a teenager, Chloe."

Chloe slumped her shoulders. _Great!_ She looked at the ceiling. "Sorry for blabbing and blabbing!"

"Not at all," he told her. "You needed to get it out."

"Seriously," she said, "tell me to shut up one day, 'kay?"

He smiled. "Okay."

She sighed. "And you had _better_, mister!"

He was called away on his radio; Chloe waved, and fell back on her bed with a moan. He wasn't ever coming back!

"'Not at all, Chloe,'" she muttered to herself. She scrunched up her eyes. Chloe sucked!

* * *

Chloe woke at nine P.M. and stared at the digital clock. She _needed_ to sleep. She thought about the ocean, smoothing the blanket covering her with her hands, like the waves, she thought, that made the beach all soft and smooth.

She _needed_ to sleep!

She thought about her mom, in their house on Earth. Would her mom be sleeping? Would _Kitty_ be sleeping?

_You're not _mom_ or _Kitty, she told herself. You_ should be _sleeping_. You're sick!_

She jammed her eyes shut. _Sleep_, she told herself, _think about the song! Feel the song, in your mind, in your body!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Yes, this is creepy, just so everyone knows. But not scary creepy, freaky creepy; _Argh, as if!_ creepy!**

* * *

She'd been getting better and better for so long, for _months_, that even Dr. Simms had believed she was well and truly on the road to recovery, though he couldn't fully explain why. She'd started taking her meals in the Mess, with her dad, or Tara, or Dr. Simms. (He told her about his little girl, Sofi, who was five and liked ponies.) She'd been so happy, and so looking forward to her dad getting the news to her mom – until the seizure.

And then she wasn't getting better anymore, in fact, she was getting worse again, really fast.

She couldn't believe it; she hadn't even taken the ring off, or anything. _Damn those Ancients_, she thought, _for giving a person hope in one breath, and then shattering it so thoroughly, in the next!_

She lay in bed and didn't talk; she didn't even feel like eating much. She wanted to get better, but she was _tired_ and sick. And angry.

She stopped drawing in her Visual Diary; she didn't _want_ to talk to Dr. Landover.

She told Dr. Rush she was sorry; his fantasticer-than-fantastic idols were jerks, like the rest of the population, human or no. It was okay if he still totally loved them, or admired them, or whatever, but they were jerks. Their gadgets sucked, and, as far as she was concerned, so did they.

He didn't say anything.

She had the sinking feeling she'd offended something, maybe she'd even offended him, but she didn't take it back – she didn't _want_ to take it back; as far as she was concerned, it was all _true_!

She told her dad she was okay; she wasn't angry.

She lied.

In a stupid, sick way, it actually made her feel closer to him, closer to her mom. She'd lied, just like they did – hey, maybe even she was _growing_ up. She felt disgusted and proud of herself at the same time.

_Way to go, Chloe! You're a self-absorbed little bitch! Everyone knows it, or why else would you talk, talk, _talk_ all the time – about _your_self! And now you've learnt how to lie! And you don't even feel like you're going to implode and burn a hole in the universe or anything for it!_

_Keep it comin', star!_

When Dr. Simms came in to see her, she threw up, and it wasn't even because of his cologne.

It was because she _hated_ herself.

* * *

Rush cam in to see her a few hours after the hours had gone, when she was supposed to be _sleeping_. He looked disappointed. He sat down on the side of her bed, and she got up and scooted over to sit beside him, hanging her feet above the floor motionlessly.

She got that he probably felt like she had to be taken care of because she was a kid – And all kids needed someone to take care of them, right? – but she wasn't even a _real_ kid, she was growing up and she wasn't going to be a kid for that much longer providing she lived any _longer_.

Plus, she wasn't even _his_ kid.

Maybe he figured that she was a human kid, so that was enough; maybe he'd wanted a kid, before his wife had died.

She suddenly wished she'd had a sibling, which was strange, because she'd _never_ wished it before today. She'd always been happy to be an only child: at least the sibling didn't have to feel guilty because she was sick and he/she wasn't, or angry that she was an attention-grabbing little bitch, even if she was dying, because she'd been dying for, like, forever!

But now she wanted a sibling, she wanted Kitty, she wanted to have a whole heap of friends; she wanted to see a penguin in the _zoo_.

She wanted her mom and dad, and she didn't want them to be arguing right outside her hospital room like they thought just because they'd gone out of the room she wouldn't know; she didn't want to have to have Kitty look at her like she was so _sorry_ because her own parents never fought over anything more substantial than what colour the new drapes were going to be, or what brand of dishwasher to buy because the old one had a _scuff _mark on its housing, or the brand name it sported just wasn't that _in_ anymore!

She wanted to _be_ something!

She wanted to hold someone's hand.

She didn't want to be a kid anymore, who couldn't say what she wanted to, because kids _never_ said things like _that_! Because it was awkward, or _wrong_, or she'd make parents look like fools for raising her to be just as big a fool!

She kicked her legs about and watched them go back and forth, but only for a moment. Then she looked up at Rush. "You're probably going to think I'm a loony or something, but I just want to say something, and it's _so_ okay if you totally bolt – I probably totally would, too!"

She sighed. He wasn't saying anything, but she could see it was because he was waiting for her to go on. She wished she was an adult so at least she wouldn't sound like a _little_ freak when she said what she said next.

"It would be the coolest, and nicest, and totally bravest thing ever if you kissed me." She took a deep breath and went on before he could say anything to stop her. "And I know that sounds _so_ fucked up! But I just want to know what a kiss is like without… without Kitty's _I'm in love with you_, or some boy's _Can I get with you_? or anything like that! Just a _kiss_!"

Rush looked at her sadly like he _got_ it, but now she had to get one thing, just one thing: it wasn't done.

She crossed her arms and stared at the wall. "Well that well and truly blows!"

"I'm sorry, Chloe," he told her quietly.

She whipped her chin around to glare at him. "Don't even waste your breath saying 'sorry' when all you did was _cover_ your ass – it's a constitutional _right_!"

"Respectfully, I don't think you're being quite fair."

She laughed, and jammed her arms into some semblance of crossed arms. "Neither to I!" she barked. "It's called being 'pissed _off_'! So shut it!" She huffed. "In Canada, nobody'd bat an eye," she told him, after a while.

"We're not in Canada, Chloe," he pointed out.

"We're not in the US, either!" she barked back.

"We're in a vessel which is under the jurisdiction of the United States Air Force," he explained.

"Well blow _that_!" she muttered angrily. She smiled. "Fine, I'll just die then!"

"Now that isn't fair at all!"

"_I don't care about fair!_" she shrieked. "I'm fourteen and I don't even know anything about being _human_, which, consequently, is the only thing I can be apart from a _queen bitch_!"

"You're not a bitch, Chloe," Rush told her.

Her eyes widened. In any other instance, she might have laughed. Instead, she screamed, "No, because I'm a _heartless_ bitch! Do you see that it's _true_! Do you see what I expect from everyone! Do you see – it's only ever about _me_!"

He had on this _I'm sorry you feel that way, Chloe_ look which made her want to puke, and slap him – and she _was_ a heartless bitch, after all, it'd be like her crowning bloody glory – but he nodded, and she almost died. _What?_ she wanted to whisper, as though on her last breath. "Alright," he said quietly.

She nearly choked. If it had been _her_, she would have told herself to go fuck herself (in _exactly_ those words)! She wanted to say _You don't have to be my friend, I've had Kitty for so long that I've forgotten what it's like not having a friend_, but her throat didn't want to talk, it had decided it had done enough _screaming_ already, which _more_ than justified its now speechlessness.

She stared, and put a hand out in front of her. She'd asked too much! They could… work with an _argument_… but she didn't want him to _hate_ her forever, even if they were never friends again.

He rested a hand on the tippy-toppest part of her arm, which wasn't really her shoulder but was _almost_ her shoulder.

Her arm fell back to her side. _This is what happens when you holler insensibly for long enough_, she thought, _it kills people's thought processes; it makes them do stupid things to just get _away_!_

She felt her eyes sting with tears. "Alright," she whispered so quietly it almost wasn't even a whisper, it almost wasn't even a _word_. If she closed her eyes, it would be like running away, it would be like disregarding his _gift_ for her, so she didn't.

She kept her eyes open.

Even when he put his fingertips under her chin.

Even when he got that look like he was being stabbed. Maybe it was _her_, maybe she'd just stabbed him, she thought. Metaphorically, she _had_.

Even when he kissed her.

_I'm sorry,_ she thought, _I wish I could say this is the last time I'm a bitch like this, but that'd be terribly untrue of me, so I won't._

She stopped thinking.

She wanted to smile.

It was _perfect_.

* * *

"Ralph?"

Chloe's eyes widened in horror and Rush took his hands back and sat up straighter.

_Who's Ralph?_ Chloe wanted to ask.

Tara's head popped around the door, "Is Dr. Simms-" A frown flickered into place on her face.

Chloe blurted out something insensible, followed by, "It's Ancient for 'hovercraft'!"

Tara's frown deepened.

"Dr. Rush is teaching me Ancient," she rambled, "but I kinda suck. I'm going to get better, though. Don't… tell my father – I want it to be like a surprise!"

"Dr. Simms hasn't been in, by any chance, has he?"

"No, I'm afraid not, Tara," Rush replied.

She sighed, then nodded. "You're alright, Chloe. I won't tell Alan. I don't think I could learn Ancient, myself. But if Nicholas is teaching you, then you're in good hands."

"Facilitating," Chloe said.

"I'm sorry, honey?"

"People don't teach other people," Chloe said, "they facilitate other people's learning; they provide the opportunity, and, in some cases, the support and motivation."

"Alright, honey," Tara placated. "I really have to find Dr. Simms now."

"Bye, Tara," Chloe told her.

"Goodbye, Chloe." She nodded to Rush, "Nicholas."

He nodded back, just slightly.

Chloe waited until she'd heard the door close after Tara, before turning to Rush with wide eyes. "You're first name is _Nicholas_!"

He looked unhappy. "I'm teaching you Ancient?" he muttered.

She took a breath, her chest rising with it. "I had to say _something_! Does she call everyone by their first names?"

"I'm not sure."

"She called my dad 'Alan'! And Dr. Simms '_Ralph_'!"

"Perhaps."

Chloe smiled widely. "I like Nicholas! It has eight letters exactly, which is double the amount of letters in your last name, and it's very modern, in a modern but timeless way. Like Elizabeth or Jennifer or James. Like Kitty's name, Katherine. Chloe is new and fandangle and all of a fad right _now_, but it's not the same."

"It's actually said to come from the Greek," Rush told her.

She made a face. "It's still not the same."

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," she supposed. "Except for Dr. Simms's name being Ralph! It's so _funny_!"

"Am I laughing?" Rush asked.

Chloe looked at him. "No."

"Then obviously it's not quite _so_ funny."

"Do you hate me now," she asked, with a sigh.

"Why would I hate you, Chloe?"

"For being a temper tantrum tot," Chloe admitted.

"I don't hate you, but I think I need to go to work now," he told her, and stood up.

She sighed heavily. "The work just never stops around here…"

"No, it doesn't."

Chloe sighed again. "Have fun with your work, then. And don't do anything I wouldn't." She smiled, but he didn't smile back.

She watched him walk out of the room; she wondered why Tara had needed to see Dr. Simms so urgently.

She didn't want to think he might have been leaving her. She only really had one friend on the ship, and he'd just walked out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Of course, Rush knew what they would say if they'd known. He was trying to make her into his perfect little soldier, to love and obey him always. But he just wanted to be her friend; not that they could understand such a thing. He was so old, compared to her, and she was so young! She wasn't even an _adult_ yet!

Why would an adult want to be friends with a kid? And a kid that could never seem to shut up whenever he was around, as well!

But he wanted a friend, and though kids could be mean, he had a feeling she wasn't all that mean of a kid, really.

She wouldn't hate him the way Park hated Palmer.

He still hadn't comprehended the reasoning behind that, fully. Of course, it could make _perfect_ sense, but the sense it would make would also be perfectly pointless, and perfectly childish, and he liked to believe that whoever it had been who'd done the SGC's psych evaluations wasn't a complete moron.

They'd hired him, hadn't they?

But maybe that wasn't the best example of how he liked to think it worked; he was also very good at lying, when it was called for.

* * *

Chloe couldn't sleep. Rush had come back to see her, but only, probably, out of a show at teaching her some Ancient, she thought. And now he would hate her for wasting his time, and she hated herself for wasting his time, and for being so presumptuous as to presume after his motives like she even knew anything beyond Chloe World!

She pushed her blankets off her a little way and climbed free of them the rest of the way; there was this annoying humming thing happening in her head that was stopping her from sleeping, and she was going to find out what was causing it and put a stop to it so she could get a little sleep at all tonight.

She knew it wasn't in her mind, it was in her head – in her ears! She could hear it! But she didn't know what it _was_!

She walked to the door to her room and looked out. The coast was clear; she was good to go. She stepped out into the Infirmary and walked quietly to the door, and stood in the doorway for a moment, before deciding that she need to go left.

The noise was coming from her left.

She went that way.

It was a long way. At the end of that long way, she found a room. She stared into the room through the door but didn't go inside. She didn't like the look of what was inside; it looked like some kind of apparatus.

Rush would advise her to stay put, and her dad would _order_ her to! Tara would freak and Dr. Simms might actually come out with a sweet to coax her away from the door.

She tried not to think too hard about the sweet.

_Stupid sweet!_

The humming wasn't going away or stopping, and now all she could think about was that sweet, which wasn't even a _real_ sweet because sweets weren't healthy if you had too many of them, and the Air Force wasn't going to waste cargo space filling it with sweets!

She took a tiny step into the room.

_Stop_, she thought, _stop that right this instant!_

Nothing happened.

She wished she had a radio like her dad, or Rush. She could have asked someone to come and turn the silly, humming keeping-her-awake thing off.

She wondered if, if she waited, someone else would hear it and come, too.

It they came, then they turn it off.

She frowned. But maybe _they_ hadn't turned it on, she thought, maybe _no one_ had! Maybe the _ship_ had!

She fought back a bodily shiver. _Silly Chloe, silly ship! Turn off!_

She frowned harder, narrowing her eyes in the dim light. Was that a button? She tiptoed a _little_ bit closer. It _was_ a button!

It looked like an important button. Like maybe the 'off' button. She let her breath out. Did she really want to wake everyone in the middle of the night for nothing? Did she really want to wake her dad and Rush and Tara? Or even Dr. Simms?

_Not really_, she thought. _All I have to do is press the button and it'll turn off. The noise will stop and I'll be able to go back to bed – and get some sleep!_

She crept closer. _Bad idea_, her mom's voice thought in her mind.

_Be quiet, mom_, she thought back,_ I need to concentrate._

_Chloe, you stay away from that thing, you hear me!_

_Shh, mom!_

_Don't you-_ Her mom's voice shut off. She reached over a hand for the button.

_Do it, Chloe! Just get it over with, already!_ her mind told her.

Her hand hovered over the button. She let her hand drop.

* * *

"Oh, shit, who're you?"

The sound of a woman's voice close by, and the feeling like she'd gone all kind of stiff, had her struggling to open her eyes.

"Oh, shit!" the voice repeated.

"Lisa?"

"Oh, fuck!"

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

Lisa's voice rose in panic. "Hell, Dale! I only meant to leave it on to annoy her when she came in in the morning and found that she'd left it on! I don't even know where _she_ came from! Who is she? Have you seen her before?"

"Not that I can recall off the top of my head," Dale replied. "In any case, I imagine she'd be wearing something if she was one of our people, unless she's… mentally unstable or the likes…"

Chloe felt herself blush. That was why she was _so_ cold! Where were her clothes? She felt suddenly panicked. She opened her eyes.

Lisa gave a little shriek and grabbed Dale's arm with her hand, gripping it tightly.

She'd been lying on the floor, Chloe noticed, when she sat up. She frowned. Well, at least she thought _she'd_ been lying on the floor. She thought back to hearing her dad talk about the Ancient communication stones. Holy shit, she'd hijacked someone else's body somehow! Crisps, how did she give it back and go back to her own body?

She stared at Lisa and Dale, crossing her arms tighter over the other woman's chest. "Help."

Lisa's eyes widened but she didn't make a sound; the pair stared at her as though transfixed.

"I won't hurt you," she told them, "I'm cold."

Dale started to take off his lab coat, then looked at Lisa, who was still holding his arm. She let go. He handed the white coat to the body Chloe was 'borrowing.'

She put the coat on. She didn't bother to ask them to turn away; they were obviously scared she'd attack them if they did that. "I need to leave this body," she said, finally, in the other woman's voice. "I must have accidentally borrowed it, and I have to give it back."

Lisa's eyes un-widened. "You borrowed it," she said.

Chloe nodded.

Dale looked at Lisa. "We should take her to see-"

"Yes," Lisa cut him off. "We'll take you to see Dr. Simms. Do you know who that is?"

Chloe nodded again. "He's my doctor," she said.

"Good, that's good," Dale replied. He frowned, then added, "After you."

Chloe shuffled forward. Geez, could they get any more paranoid!

They walked to the Infirmary; Chloe tried to keep her teeth from chattering by clamping her jaw shut tightly. It started to hurt.

Lisa and Dale weren't saying anything; she kept walking.

Inside the Infirmary, she hurried over to her room. Cripes, criminal litigation, she wasn't in her bed!

She turned back to Lisa and Dale. "I'm supposed to be sleeping," she told them, "in my bed in my room! That's my room! I'm not in my bed!"

Lisa looked at her funny. "Have you seen anyone around with the ring like that?" Chloe heard her ask Dale quietly.

She looked at her left hand. Nothing! She looked at her right. She felt suddenly faint.

Lisa's face twisted into something between worry and fright.

"You're very pale," Dale told her. "Are you on any sort of medication? Excuse me, is the body that you're 'borrowing' on any sort of medication?"

Lisa face shot around to his. "How would _she_ know?" she hissed.

He looked at her. "I don't know," he muttered, annoyed and guilty at the same time.

They looked back to her.

"I think I'll go and lie down," Chloe told them. "Ill just wait for Dr. Simms in my room."

They watched her walk to her room, then sit down on her bed.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like lying down. She felt sick. "Can you call my dad?" she asked. "He's Alan Armstrong."

Lisa choked.

A muscle near Dale's left eye twitched.

Chloe closed her eyes. So strange, those two people!

* * *

The sound of shouting woke her and she jerked her eyelids open. Whoever was shouting they'd do to take a chill pill, she decided. She frowned. _Oh, it's Dr. Rush._

"She didn't know the kid was going to wander in there and start playing with the damn thing!" Dale yelled.

"That-"

"Look," that was Tara, "just everyone – calm down!"

"I-"

"No! Dr. Rush, you, too. Shut up!"

"How dare-"

"ALRIGHT!"

Chloe sat up and got out of bed. "It's okay," she said, "I think I'm okay, mostly."

Everyone wheeled around to look at her, mostly okay.

Lisa was crying, she noticed; Tara looked like she was either going to cry or strangle someone; Dale's face had gone really red; Rush looked perfectly calm, suddenly, as though he had some sort of button labelled _For when kids suddenly pop up out of the woodworks, look calm, collected, and in control._

She made a face, and looked around properly. No Dr. Simms, no dad! "Is my dad coming soon? Where's Dr. Simms?"

"They're coming, honey," Tara said in a wavering voice.

Chloe left her room and walked over to them.

Dale flinched.

"You guys need to calm down," she told them, looking at Lisa. "Do you want a hug?"

Lisa shook her head convulsively, tears flying out of her eyes.

Chloe looked at Dale. He stood perfect still and winced. She'd meant him to offer Lisa a pat on the back, not to act like she was going to throw him out one of the airlocks. She gave up, and looked at Rush. "Tara's right. We shouldn't be fighting when we don't even know how my dad or Col. Young are going to react."

Dale blanched; tears ran down Lisa's face.

"They could go mega ballistic and then we'd have to all stick together. I'm okay, so let's all just calm down and wait for my dad and Dr. Simms. Yeah?"

Tara was the only one who offered a nod.

"It's okay," Chloe told Lisa.

* * *

As it turned out, Col. Young was the first to arrive. He stared at Chloe, then at the others; then just at Rush. It was up to him to explain, he was the head scientist.

Chloe said nothing. She didn't feel like bringing Col. Young's anger down on herself, or anyone else.

Her dad came in next. Col. Young turned to look at him, then walked off to explain what had happened.

She watched her dad's face change colour and set in a hard expression of anger. _Not good_, she thought.

She hurried over. "I must have accidentally switched it on when I feel against it, dad! It was an _accident_! I thought I'd just be able to turn it off again. You know, like a toaster, or an iPod! I didn't think only _one_ button could be so important! It's usually _Press this, press that, don't press it out of order or it won't work_. It's not usually _Press this, works first time, every time; handy, just one button push-to-activate_."

Her dad's expression didn't change.

She forced herself to grimace, _Really!_

Finally, he said, "What were you doing out of bed in the first place? And what were you doing in that _room_?"

"I thought I saw a butterfly."

Her father choked.

Her face dropped.

"Dear God," he muttered, "not _this_ again!"

"I'm sorry!" she whined. Her dad was really mad now, she could tell. When she'd been younger, before the illness, she'd sleepwalked. Sometimes, she'd told her therapist that she'd seen whole flocks of butterflies in her dreams, and that they'd been really very pretty, so she'd followed them.

Her therapist had told her parents.

And now her dad wasn't happy. Again. "You're not starting this again, Chloe!" her dad told her; it came out funny, as though his voice was somehow constricted.

_It's because of me_, she thought,_ because of how I look; because I'm Chloe, but I'm not, I'm different, but he still has to keep calling me Chloe._ "I'm sorry," she repeated.

He shook his head.

Dr. Simms arrived.

* * *

Her dad wanted to know about the machine; Col. Young wanted to know about the machine. Nobody asked her if she wanted to know.

Apparently, it had the ability to rapidly age its 'subjects.'

She was asked to point out which button she'd pressed, then asked to leave again. To let the grownups work, she thought.

In the mirror, she looked like them; she was a grownup. She felt angry. And they had the nerve to send her out as though she was some sort of child! She'd been fourteen before the machine had changed her! Fourteen, not a baby!

She stared at herself; she wasn't bad looking, but she couldn't like what she saw. She wanted to slap herself across the face; she wanted to yell at mirror image and tell it to _Piss off!_

Later, Tara came to tell her that if the machine had aged her then she'd put her body's new age at around 24.

She said nothing; she felt hungry.

Dr. Simms wanted to do tests.

She had to wait until after the tests to eat.

She hated her life because it sucked. Now, she wasn't even a kid or an adult. She was just a _thing_!


End file.
